Gone
by NickL4Dolas
Summary: Nick is Infected (like in my other stories Immunity is Gone / Living the Nightmare.) He is the last Infected on Earth, so he must be shipped away for the rest of the world's safety. Rochelle doesn't like this. Oneshot. Rochelle x Nick


Gone (This is about Nick being shipped away to be rid of, because he is Infected. Rochelle objects!) [Contains Nick x Rochelle ;)] .:I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. LEFT 4 DEAD 2 AND ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO VALVE :3:. Chapter 1: Seclusion "What?!" "I told you. I have to go." "Why?" Rochelle stared at Nick's back as he bent over and clipped the suitcase shut. Only a small suitcase, with only a few personal belongings allowed to where he was going. All the hygiene items would be supplied. He had been given certain clothes to wear. He was clothed in them now - a plain grey shirt and trousers. No belt, not even shoes. "They can't take you," Rochelle said stubbornly. "Ro, sweetheart, yes they can. I'm the last Infected. I'm a danger to society. I'm being shipped off to an island, a secluded island, to live in solitary confinement. That's all. I'll be allowed the odd phone call, since I'm still sane and can talk. So I'll still be able to contact you." 1 Month Later ... Rochelle stepped from the shower. She shook out her wet hair, before getting dressed. She unlocked the shower door and, as she picked up the hair dryer, the phone rang. The incessant bleeping made her hopeful. "Hello?" she asked tentatively. Her throat was constricted with hope. "Hey, Ro." Her heart leapt at the gravelly Boston accent. It was Nick! "Nick! I've missed you so much," she cried. "So have I, sweetheart. I-" He paused, and she could hear someone else talking in the background to Nick. She waited patiently. Then she heard Nick speak, his voice muffled because he was holding the phone away. "Please, five more minutes. I need to talk to her. Just five minutes! I need more than five seconds to just greet her! Let me have more than five seconds! No-" There was an audible scuffle, the sound of Nick being dragged from the phone. "No!" His voice was distant. Rochelle strained her ears to hear him as he was locked up again. "Let me talk to her! LET ME TALK-" There was the sound of a gunshot, a bullet hitting flesh, a yell of pain. "Goodbye," came a new voice. This was gruff and much too low; the voice of one of Nick's guards hanging up on her. "No! I need to speak to him, please!" Rochelle cried. There was a click, and a monotonous beep started up. He had hung up on her. She sagged against the wall. They had let Nick have five seconds of phone time, then forcefully dragged him away and shot him. And hung up on her. Rochelle didn't feel ashamed as tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt so angry she wanted to kill those bastards. * Someone rang the doorbell. The postman handed Rochelle a large box when she unlatched and opened the door. Inside the box was a suitcase. A label pinned on it said: 'Belongings of Specimen Z'. Two letters and a piece of paper were the only things inside. She grasped the first letter and opened it, with a curious feeling that it was directed at her and the others. _To my fellow survivors,_ _I've been wanting to tell you this in the little time I've known you. I am fated to become Infected. I seem immune, but my immunity is losing the battle. Every day I see you three I feel the need to kill myself. You have kept me sane. If I was ever separated from you for long I would go insane from the Infection. I guess you hate me now, so I'm sorry._ _Nick._ Rochelle bit her lip as she opened the next envelope. This one was addressed to her. _Rochelle,_ _I'm sorry I need got round to telling you that I don't hate you. I act all cocky because around you I feel braver. I'm writing this hurriedly; my jailers are waiting to send it to you. I need to say one last thing. When I'm gone tomorrow, you'll be the person I miss most._ _Nick_ Gone tomorrow? Gone? Holding back waves of sorrow and worry, Rochelle picked up the piece of paper and turned it over. It was a sketch, and sketch of her. But as she squinted at it she noticed the lines were made of tiny, scrunched up words; she took a pen and paper, jotting down the order of words. When she was done, she sat back and read her handiwork. "Tomorrow I will be burned alive to rid myself of the Infection and save the world ... WHAT!?" With each word Rochelle grew more and more frantic. "... That's what my jailers say, anyway. I just want you to know that as I did I'll know that you are safe. Don't try to save me or do anything crazy. It won't change a thing. "Goodbye, Ro." 


End file.
